A Cinderella of a Different Kind
by toumeiillusion
Summary: (12 Shots of Summer) Fauchereve was used to strange dreams but he never expected to really be in one. (Dreamtalia/Yumetalia)


It was rare that Fauchereve got to wear a pretty dress like this. The silk material rubbed against his skin smoothly, giving him goose bumps up and down his arms. He felt like Cinderella, which was appropriate with the kind of dream he'd gone into, except for the fact that he didn't have to be home by midnight and neither did the prince of the dream. Even his shoes were made of glass and fit his tiny feet comfortably.

He gathered the golden colored dress in his hands and walked carefully and daintily. It occurred to him that he was still a boy rather than a girl. Such a thing was rare. He would have liked a mirror to see how this form looked but the time it would take to find one was too much. He would check another time and spend this dream entertaining the prince. They would be a new friend and, as always, he really wanted new friends.

As he turned around one of the pillars, his eyes settled on a girl sitting at one of the tables looking bored and a little tired. Her hair, a redish brown, stood out among all the blondes and brunettes like a rose in a bouquet of daisies. It was tied up in a loose bun with a simple ornament stuck through it and one strand curling from the left side as though it refused to be tied up. She was reminiscent of another friend of his, the true difference being that her hair was longer and her eyes of a more brown color than honey. She wasn't the prince but she was interesting.

He drew his eyes away from her for a moment to find him, the dreaming prince, reaching a hand out to her. There was the reason she stood out from all of the other guests. She was the princess he had an interest in. She took the pale hand in hers and stood slowly, staring up into the deep red eyes of the prince. She didn't seem as romantically interested in him though, which was weird since it was his dream. Perhaps, Fauchereve thought as he shifted his weight to lean on the nearby pillar, the dream wasn't as much of a love oriented one as it was friendship. The close way he held the girl as they glided and twirled across the shining floor screamed romance but the laughter and familiarity between them brought to mind a more sibling kind of love.

"It's best not to think about it too much," he said softly to himself. The kind of dream didn't matter as much as he'd like to pretend. What mattered was getting close to the dreamer, or prince as the case may be.

The girl was guided beside him shortly after the dance had ended. She gazed over at Fauchereve with a puzzled look on her face, as though she was trying to place him. She tilted her head to both sides and looked up and down for what seemed an inappropriately long time. Being looked at so closely was strange and uncomfortable to him since most background elements in the dreams didn't pay much attention to him. He began to think she was really there rather than just being thought up, or the dreamer was very particular about making her act as she always did even in his dreams.

The girl clapped her hands and let out a happy squeal. "Oh, Pruβen! You should have told me that Mr. Austria would be here," she called, turning to face the prince once more. He let out a hearty laugh and leaned forward to get a closer look at Fauchereve.

"Well I'll be damned. It really is the young master." A grin spread across Pruβen's face. "I'm glad you made it. Nice dress."

Fauchereve smiled happily at them. "I'm glad you think so. Who's your friend?" He looked sideways at the girl, who now seemed to be preoccupied with fixing the tie Pruβen was wearing.

"Ah. That's right. You haven't seen her since she was a little birdy. Austria, this is Firenze. "

"Heeeh… Pruβen, its Florence. My Italian name is too formal." Fauchereve realized that was why she'd looked so similar to him. She was a part of Italy as much as he was. More than likely, they were related. Pruβen nervously rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away from her.

"Aha… Sorry. Your other name is just so pretty." She let out a soft sigh and stepped away from him, looking over her shoulder at Fauchereve.

"Is it straight?" He inclined his head slightly as a nod. She gave him a sweet smile and turned, placing her hands on her hips. The pose was rather triumphant for having only tied a tie straight but it was cute, in a way, that she thought it was more important than that. He let out a quiet chuckle, stifling it by placing a hand over his mouth.

"Ahhhh… It looks like I'm going to have to leave for the moment," Pruβen said as he glanced over his shoulder. "It looks like West is being a wet blanket."

"Then go," Florence started with a wave of her hand. "Before we all get soaked. Maybe if you two drink together he'll lighten up." With that, he dashed off into the crowd. Fauchreve wondered if this was normal for his dreams.

He stood in awkward silence for a moment and glanced around. There were plenty of things for him to do in order to end up back with Pruβen but most of them seemed a little rushed. He wasn't too sure about his dancing skills either.

"Do you like flowers?" Florence asked abruptly, looking past him and out the glass doors. She twisted the skirt of her dress in her hands and shifted. It hadn't occurred to him that she might be nervous after being left alone with somebody who hardly knew her. He looked back.

"Yes… Why do you ask?" Her cheeks turned a shade of pink he could just barely detect under the rouge.

"Well… The garden looks very beautiful at night since it gets lit up. Pruβen doesn't like me going out alone though so I… Was wondering if you wouldn't mind taking me." The sides of her hair fell into her eyes and she tried to find something else to look at. She was an awful lot like the Italy he knew when he was being shy.

"Alright." He smiled, finding it hard to say no when she seemed so precious. There was nothing wrong with a change of plans after all.

As they stepped out onto the outer staircase, Fauchereve admired the moonlight and the glow of the railings. The feel of them told him that they were marble, probably white, and very well cared for. Florence didn't take the time to pause and think about what they were made of a set off down the stairs with a quick pace. _She must really like flowers,_ he thought, taking off after her. He hadn't ever seen anyone walk with such focused steps.

She didn't stop until they reached what seemed to be the center of the garden and took a seat on the swinging bench. The real image of the garden was a bit different than what he'd thought it would be. There were more lilies, carnations, and lilacs than there were roses of any sort and while it looked cared for it was still very natural looking.

"An interesting choice in landscaping," he muttered quietly. "But it is beautiful." Florence patted the seat next to her and looked up at him. He took the invitation and sat carefully, fixing the skirts so it would be at least a little more convenient for him.

"You know, I first met Pruβen in this garden. I was still little then and I was lost." She looked up at the sky but her gaze seemed to go past it, like she was looking into a memory rather than the moon. "He was very gentle with me and promised me a flower if I calmed down. It was silly but it worked."

She paused and looked down at her hands, folding them in to one another. "He put a crown of daisies on my head when we got back in the castle. It's odd but every time I come here it's was I think of… Is it strange to think of it so often?"

"Not if it's precious to you. A memory like that should be thought of fondly. It seems like it means a lot to you." She nodded in agreement.

"I was just worried that being attached to something trivial like that was weird. I suppose it was for nothing." She leaned back and exhaled quietly. It looked like a weight was lifted off of her shoulders. Fauchereve smiled softly. It seemed like she worried about small things like that a lot more than anyone should.

She glanced up at him quickly. "Thank you. For listening, I mean." His smile grew warmer for a moment before he noticed that the dream was going to end soon. He looked around and stood slowly. Florence watched, unblinkingly, and sat up a little.

"I should be heading home," Fauchereve said softly. She let out a giggle.

"At exactly midnight? How story book of you." He made a quiet noise. They didn't have to leave at midnight and yet he ended up doing so anyways. Maybe he really was Cinderella in this dream.

"Will I get to see you again?" she asked, leaning forward from her seat. He thought about it for a minute. Even if he found her dreams, she wouldn't know it was him and since she was in another's dream right now, making such a promise wouldn't matter.

"Yes," he said while thought it over. The response seemed appropriate for the situation. "You will. Should I leave you a slipper to find me?"

"Only if you think you can head home with just one." Florence grinned widely and stood up. Getting up on the tops of her toes, she kissed his cheeks.

"Until next time. Ciao." She started back, skipping a bit rather than just walking, and he waited a moment.

"She really is his sister, isn't she?"


End file.
